Getting hitched in our 70s gave us a new lease of life
GEOFFREY MORTON proposed to his wife, June, at the top of the Eiffel Tower. As fellow tourists offered congratulations and took pictures, the couple toasted one another with champagne and gazed out over Paris.
It was an intensely romantic moment. Yet Geoffrey and June aren’t millennial backpackers or even fortysomething divorcees.
Geoffrey was 78 when he got down on one knee — a risky manoeuvre for plenty of men his age — while June was 73.
‘Getting married has definitely made me feel younger,’ says Geoffrey, a former publisher, who’s now 8 . ‘What’s happened to us feels like a lovely, but unexpected, surprise.’
When they met at their retirement village in Taunton, Somerset, both Geoffrey and June were still married. Yet, by 01 , both had been widowed. ‘I was married to Freda for 53 years, and June to Tom for 4 ,’ says Geoffrey. ‘To an extent, when June and I got together we’d already lived one life.’
In the aftermath of loss, neither was looking for a new partner, but events kept throwing them together: both were members of the village residents’ committee and active in the local church.
It was curiosity about the world that really connected them.
‘I’ve always loved travelling and so has June,’ says Geoffrey. ‘We’ve been round the world twice and we’re always planning the next trip.
‘Travelling as a couple is much better than going on your own. I did that after losing Freda and I missed an awful lot because there was no one to share thoughts with.’
Not that they live in each other’s pockets. ‘If one of us wants to do something by ourselves, that’s fine,’ says Geoffrey. ‘We’re quite happy to let each other be independent.
‘We do both keep an eye on each other, though. I can’t imagine June ever nagging, but if, say, she’s got a concern about my health, she’s got her way of making it clear that I need to take it seriously, too.’
Between them, they have four children: a son and a daughter each, all of whom were consulted before the wedding in 014, and seven grandchildren, aged from five to 9.
‘It was the one thing that troubled us. We wanted to get married, but we weren’t sure how the children would feel, especially about the inheritance side of things.’
Following legal advice — June had been a legal secretary before she retired — they decided to keep their estates separate, with each going to their own sides of the family when the time comes.
Everyone gave their blessing and, on the big day, Geoffrey’s son was his best man and June’s daughter her matron of honour.
‘It was a wonderful day — and it’s remained wonderful,’ says Geoffrey. ‘We had a job trying to squeeze all our belongings into one home, but we managed it, and, on our first day, I carried June over the threshold.’